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"You're fired, and I don't ever want to see you here again."
Your manager's voice steals your attention, your fury directed at the ivory-haired man dissipating as you turn to the similarly angry woman at the door.
Despair is the first thing that hits you.
Your heart sinks.
No.
Your heart, more like, plummets as any hopes of personal and financial independence drift into the deep, dark depths of the Mariana Trench when you fully comprehend your manager's order.
You can't lose your job.
You think about the goals that you have envisioned: a larger apartment in Kyoto, a better childhood for Haru, a guilt-free life with Nanami.
Why did these things always have to happen to you?
Why is it that every time you've built up better foundations for yourself and your future, that every time you find a silver lining in your darkness, that those hopes are quickly torn down?
First, your past relationship. Now, your job.
And then why, just why, is it always the same person that tramples on these aspirations?
You shoot a small sideways glance at the observant Gojo who is to blame, and then you move away to turn your thoughts to your manager.
In front of your manager, you are completely powerless.
All the hot-headedness in your usual temper disappears, and for a good reason.
The stripping business is a small, small world. As a result, every wrong move would cost you not only your job. but also your career, in return.
You clench your fists as you remain quiet from where you stand.
After intercepting the judging stare that she sends, the only thing you can do is fall onto your knees, lowering your head against the cold, hard concrete that only pitied your sorrowful form.
"I-I'm sorry," you barely choke out.
Your manager ignores any prying eyes from curious pedestrians, her anger blurring out the rest of the world—including Gojo—so that you and your bow are her focal point.
